Feel So Close
by DixonVixen93
Summary: AU of "This Sorrowful Life": Michonne hadn't felt so close to another human being since her boyfriend died in the beginning of the ZA. Merle had never felt so close to another human being before. When the two bond over their trip to the farm store, where the inevitable ambush awaits, they have to wonder just what that means. Merle/Michonne.


**Plot bunnies, oh how I've missed you! **

**Here's another AU for 3x15, 'cause there's never enough stories of Merle surviving the Governor's attack. (Besides, maybe if we cause enough raucous, Merle can come back from the dead somehow…)**

**I do not own The Walking Dead. **

_**Feel So Close**_

"Ya know, girly, you an' me ain't much different," Merle Dixon rasped, glancing over at his captive. Michonne looked amused as she considered his words. Her large lips parted just for a nanosecond, and he had to look away to keep his mind clear. Thinking of her like _that_ surely ain't gonna do him any good, if he was just gonna turn her over to the Governor anyway.

The two of them had been going back and forth, trying to get under the other's skin ever since the redneck took his Nubian Queen out to deliver her to the Governor. While he wasn't too particularly fond of giving Michonne up, he knew that he had to do what he could to keep his brother safe. (Merle had given Michonne a lot of thought since she left Woodbury. He attempted to follow out orders to kill her for the Governor, but now he was damn glad that he hadn't. She was one hell of a fighter, and no one could tell her no. That much, he admired about her.)

"That so?" Michonne finally retorted.

"We're both fightin' to survive, ain't we?" Merle glanced over at the katana-wielding survivor. "Your so-called buddies didn't think twice about sendin' you to the Governor, now did they?" He paused for a moment. "You say that _I'm _an outsider—"

"I'm not saying that the group looks at me like they look at Daryl," she glanced down at her bound hands, the tone of her voice a deadpan. "At least I'm trying to bring something to the group."

The redneck ground his teeth together in annoyance. "I a'ready warned you once about cuttin' that tongue out. Watch yer mouth, girl." But, as soon as that left his mouth, and the car grew quiet once more, Merle realized that maybe she was right. "I don't need to prove nothin' to them," he added after a while. Michonne picked her head up and looked at him once more.

"I care about my brother, that's all," Merle continued. His voice began to crackle, betraying his own indifferent façade. "If Daryl survives to see another day, 'cause of me, then that might make everythin' okay."

That was when it hit the dark-skinned survivor. He wasn't going to take her to the Governor, just because there was false hope that he would back off the prison. Merle was going to end this once and for all.

"You are going to kill the Governor," Michonne began. It came out as a statement, but it was much more of a question than anything else. The redneck didn't reply to her, he just kept his eyes on the road. She noticed that his one good hand gripped the steering wheel just a tad tighter. "What if you don't come back?"

"What does the difference make, huh?" Merle finally piped up, venom evident in his tone. "Thought that no one was gonna mourn me…"

Michonne was rendered speechless for a moment. It never really occurred to her just how devoted Merle was to his brother. She was aware that he had a softer side to him, but she also knew that he refused to show that side to others. Not even to his own brother. But now, here he was, going off on what could be a suicide mission. He didn't care, not as long as Daryl was safe. Merle was an admirable man, she couldn't deny that.

The redneck just shook his head and pulled the car into a complete stop. He turned to look at Michonne, who was staring right back into his eyes.

"You're not a bad guy, Merle. Look what you are willing to do for your brother," she told him, the resemblance of a smile curling across her lips. "We can go back, you know."

"No. I _have_ to do this for Daryl. Wit' or without yer slinky ass talkin' my damn head off," Merle grumbled, eyes raking her up and down.

Michonne pondered for a moment. The Governor deserved to die. She didn't care when and how; hell, she should have just went with Merle when he wanted to go in the first place. "I'll make a deal with you, redneck," she deadpanned. That peaked his interest, but he didn't say a word, just waited for her to continue.

"We make it to the rendezvous, you untie me and I will personally help you take out the Governor," Michonne's lips lifted into another coy smirk, which Merle had to admit was a turn-on.

"That so, sweetheart?" the redneck considered that for a moment. "How do I know that you won't turn on me the second I give ya yer sword back, hmm?"

"You really think I'm that stupid?" Michonne retorted. "That would draw unnecessary attention. We go in, do what we have to and leave."

Merle just laughed. They really _were_ a lot alike. "Okay, darlin', I think you got yourself a plan."

"One condition, though," the katana-wielding survivor locked eyes with the redneck once more. This time, there was amusement dancing in his eyes. He was back to his old self again. "You let me take his other eye out."

"Done and done, my Nubian Queen," he grinned mischievously. "Got me a pit stop to make before, though."

Michonne gave him a weird look, but didn't say another word. Merle started to drive again, not very far from the next stop. When she saw what that was, however, the dark-skinned woman practically ripped him a new one.

"You're stopping to get _drunk_? What are you, insane?"

"Woman, I will still rip out that tongue if I don't like what's comin' outta it!" Merle fought back. "Do you know how long it's been since I had good booze?"

He went to take a swig of the bottle and Michonne just glared.

"If you miss and we die, what are you going to do then, redneck? I need you sober for this. Afterwards is a whole different story," Michonne explained. Merle just sighed and put the bottle down. He was really gonna need a drink after all of this.

The katana-wielding survivor just carefully watched her counterpart as he reached towards the radio to turn the volume all the way up. Her first thought was how completely insane he was. Turning on music _that_ loud was like ringing the dinner bell for all walkers within a fifty-mile radius.

As a herd quickly approached the car, Merle began to ease along the road. That was when it started to make sense to Michonne. He was leading the herd of walkers to the farm store. The man had a plan; she had to appreciate that.

o—o—o

"You got a plan, I'm assuming?" Michonne asked, flexing her fingers as Merle cut off her hand restraints.

"The fuck you take me fer, woman?" the redneck threw back, grumbling something under his breath. "Look, I got me a plan. You just cover my ass, got me?"

The dark-skinned survivor just nodded. She had the oddest smile on her face when Merle handed her the katana back. Michonne grasped it tightly, but her eyes never left her counterpart's.

"I ain't holdin' back. Whoever's in my damn way is gettin' shot down," Merle told her, somewhat calmly.

"I've got your back," Michonne softly spoke just before she realized that he was driving towards a barn. "Merle, what's your plan now?"

The redneck quirked up an eyebrow towards the dark-skinned beauty before him, "We jump out of the car. You just follow my lead, darlin'. If you see a biter, ya take it out on the spot. Got me?"

Once the car kept rolling towards the barn, Merle and Michonne took their chances at jumping out of the car. The herd of walkers made a quick work of swarming around the noisy car, which in turn brought out all of the Woodbury soldiers, who had heard the same thing.

Michonne kept close behind the redneck, who crept around the barn, looking for a back entrance to sneak into. He brought his rifle closer as they finally made it inside. She kept close to the door, while the redneck went to the window, looking for the perfect view to shoot from.

She had to admit, though, Merle may have been a racist asshole, but he was an honorary, racist asshole. He cared deeply for his brother. If it hadn't been for Daryl, Merle wouldn't be risking his life right now, shooting Woodbury soldiers as they tried to defend themselves against the herd of walkers. Michonne couldn't help but think what she would have done in Merle's situation. And, every time that she asked herself, it would come out the same way. She would be doing the same exact thing. The dark-skinned survivor and the brash redneck really weren't all that different. It just took them some _bonding_ time to realize such a thing. Right now, Michonne had never felt so close to Merle. In fact, she had never felt so close to anyone in her life. She understood his reasoning, and that just made her drawn more to him.

The katana-wielding survivor was taken out of her thoughts as a walker that had come dangerously close to taking a good chunk out of her neck grabbed her. She began to struggle getting it off of her, fiddling for her sword as she took it out of its sheath. Within the next moment, said walker was decapitated at her feet. Michonne's breath grew choppy as she tried to regain her composure. She looked towards the window, seeing Merle still shooting. The dark-skinned woman was relieved to see this much. At that point, he had taken down all of the soldiers but Martinez and the Governor himself.

"Michonne!" Merle rasped towards her, gaining her attention once more. She had started to watch for the back door again, but had completely missed Martinez spotting Merle from the window. "They're fuckin' comin', ya better have that sword ready, darlin'!"

Michonne glanced over at Merle as he came closer to where she was. His rifle was ready to shoot and, yes, his heart was thundering in his chest. The redneck damn well knew that he didn't want to die. But if what was what it came to, then oh well. _Phillip_ deserved every damn ounce of torture that was coming his way.

When the Governor broke the door down, Michonne charged for him and threw him down on the ground. Martinez was seconds away from grabbing the dark-skinned survivor and pulling her off of the Governor, if it hadn't been for Merle being quick at the draw. He shot Martinez in the head, sending him down for good.

Michonne had the Governor pinned down with her katana, the edge of the blade cutting into his jugular slowly. "You wanted me? Well. Here. I. _Am_," the young woman spoke vehemently.

Phillip grew irritated and overthrew Michonne, sending her flying backwards. As he went to charge after her this time, Merle grabbed him from behind and pinned him against the wall. The Governor managed to head butt his former right-hand man, but that didn't faze Merle any. He whipped Phillip in the head with the bottom of his rifle and, while he was still stunned, put his thumb over his attacker's one good eye and pressed down on it until it began oozing with blood. Michonne had cracked her skull when she went down from the Governor's attack, but she had come to, to see Merle put his other eye out.

"I'm done with you, you _stupid_ piece of shit," Merle rasped as he shot the Governor in the stomach, and in the heart. He looked to his counterpart, who forced herself to get up and grab her sword. She was severely weakened, but she was able to drive her sword through the Governor's skull once and for all, destroying his brain stem.

"Michonne," the redneck noticed that she was starting to stumble a bit. "C'mon, let's get you out of here."

"Not yet," the young woman fought back, glancing down at the Governor's still body. He was propped up against the wall, but only for a moment more. Michonne spent her last ounce of energy decapitating his head.

Merle grabbed Michonne as her body started to give way. She was losing consciousness, and fast. He swung her over his shoulder and hurried out of the barn. He took one last look at the Governor's body, a satisfied grin in place as he noted his and Michonne's handiwork. Shit, they made quite the kick ass team!

o—o—o

Michonne cracked one brown eye open and instantly groaned. The sunlight coming in from the prison windows made her head feel worse than it already did. She opened both of her eyes, only to find a grinning Merle sitting next to her.

"Well, hey there, Mute," he teased, giving her a little wink. "How ya feelin'?"

"Like I've been hit by a bus…" Michonne drawled, rubbing the top of her head, which had dried blood crusted across it.

"Ya did good out t'ere, girl," Merle spoke proudly. "Never saw a woman with that much willpower, before. That bastard gave ya a right good concussion, an' yet ya still stabbed 'em an' took his head clean off."

"Merle," Michonne murmured, slowly sitting up to his level. "Are you complimenting me, or is that just the concussion talking?"

"Jus' the concussion. 'Cause we both know that we can't stand each other, right?" Merle clucked his tongue, a hearty chuckle escaping his lips.

Michonne watched Merle as he got up from his spot next to her. When he went to leave, though, she had to speak up.

"Hey, Merle," she started, gaining his eyes on hers once more. His blue eyes were almost burning a hole into her dark skin, searching for anything at all to piece together this mysterious, beautiful puzzle before him. "Are you going to come back here and kiss me or not?"

If that wasn't an invitation, Merle didn't know _what_ was.

**How was it, you guys? Reviews would be super awesome! Another story brought to ya'll by the night owl! (Seriously, it's 4 AM here, what kind of nut am I?) **


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